


Heavy Rope

by liziscribbles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Mutually Unrequited, Spoilers, implied Gladnis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liziscribbles/pseuds/liziscribbles
Summary: The next thing he remembers is falling.  Not the dream type of falling when you just don't land, but just falling from where he was restrained, down to the floor with a hard thump, and landing in a heap with a gasp.





	1. I'm Afraid

"You can't die."

Prompto has repeated those words a hundred thousand times. Maybe more. It's hard, of course. Hard being chained, alone, in a dark facility filled with the very thing that Prompto could have _been_ , had his life not gone slightly differently. And it's harder still, watching those daemon MTs roaming about the place, knowing that whenever Ardyn so desires, he'll send one down the hall to attack him... but not knowing when. Every time they come in, Prompto can't help but notice that they don't look like normal MTs. He doesn't claim to be an expert on normal MTs or anything—which is pretty damn ironic, given his history—but there's something about these ones that feels different. Something he can't explain.

So, it's terrifying being alone here. And his mind has been taunting him with the idea that maybe it would be easier to give up more than once. But he can't give up. He has to survive. "I have to make it through."

"And why is that, dear boy?" A familiar voice cuts through the silence, shaking the tight grip he has on his thoughts and making him look up to the ceiling. All the time Prompto has spent here, and that still surprises him every time. "It's not as though there's a whole lot awaiting you on the other side. Or as though dear old Noct is coming for you."

Prompto, with a voice as dry as Ardyn's sarcasm, manages to bite back, "you're wrong!" in a desperate frenzy.

"Am I, now?" Ardyn asks, sounding smug as the cat that just caught the canary. "Why would he have pushed you off that train, if he was planning on wasting his time to come and get you afterward?"

That makes Prompto balk. He blinks a couple of times, before gathering his brain enough to finally answer. "Because you manipulated him! Just like you did on the train!" he answered.

Ardyn chuckles cruelly, sounding every bit the part of the movie villain. "Did I? Or was that just the crown prince's way of getting rid of his useless, dead weight of a friend? You _know_ you're the weakest one of the group, right? That you did naught but hold the rest of the group back?" The words are spoken with pity, like Prompto is some beggar on the street, desperate for attention that Ardyn is the only one around to give him. And Ardyn isn't even in the room.

What's worse is the fact that, as much as Prompto wants to argue the truth to what Ardyn is saying, he can't. Would Gladio ever end up here? Would Iggy? Even blind, Iggy is stronger than Prompto. Even in a group with a blind man, Prompto is the weak link. So why, why in the _world_ , would Noctis want to come for Prompto when he has Gladio and Iggy at his side?

Except he would. _He will,_ Prompto reminds himself quietly, letting his eyes fall closed again. Because that's the kind of person Noctis is. He may be quiet, and sometimes a little standoffish, but he's always, _always_ , there for Prompto. And that's why... that's why Prompto has to see him again.

"No matter what, though, you can always come back home, dear boy."

Ardyn's words make Prompto's eyes shoot open. With no idea where Ardyn is, all he can do is glare at the ceiling. This isn't home; this is hell, chained to some device, subject to the same tests he was as a kid. Home is the Crown City. Home is in the Regalia. Home is... home is wherever Noctis is. _That's_ home. Niflhiem hasn't been home for ages. _Never_ , really. The first time he'd ever felt at home was in high school.

With Noctis.

The thought of Noctis makes a lump form in his throat, and he shakes his head desperately to dispel it. The dizzying thrum of ache in his head—Prompto can't determine whether it's from falling off the train or whatever the MTs have done to him since he got here—makes him regret the motion instantly, but he endures it. Just like he's endured everything else here. He _has_ to survive. He has to. There are so many things that he has to say to Noctis. So many things that he needs to get off his chest. So many things he needs to hear Noctis say to him.

So, while he hurts... he can't die. Not yet. Not like this.

"Ignoring me, hm?" Ardyn chides. "You know, I can make you stronger."

It doesn't take a genius to know what Ardyn means. The code imprinted on his hand is a constant reminder of how close he became to being on the other side of the battle he fights every day now. Make him stronger. Prompto manages to snort a laugh at that. Make him soulless more like. He's seen enough MTs to know what they're like. And as bad as the normal ones are, the ones around here are somehow worse. Even if they weren't, there is no way in hell he'd ever submit to Ardyn. He'll never betray Noctis and the others like that, just to become stronger. Not now, not ever.

He shakes his head desperately to insist to that point. "No," he says, trying to sound calm and resolute, but sounding more desperate, pleading, than anything. "Don't make me into... into one of those!" It's been a long time since he'd tried pulling against the restraints holding him in place, but the mere thought that he could possibly come out of this as one of those... as a soulless, mindless MT, makes him panic enough to try again.

The panic catches the attention of a nearby patrolling MT, which makes it walk down the hall. Loud, echoing steps in the otherwise empty space make Prompto's eyes widen with panic.

When the first cell door opens, he makes one last desperate, fruitless pull to get out of the wrist restraints. When the second door opens, he pleads, "no..." to the MT. Pointless though it is. Even if it could hear him, it wouldn't listen. The last thing he remembers in that moment is the impact of a metal fist against his left temple. Accompanying the sharp pain and the trickle of blood, the image of the MT—as well as everything else around him—fades into blackness as he falls unconscious again.

*

The next thing he remembers is falling. Not the dream type of falling when you just don't land, but just falling from where he was restrained, down to the floor with a hard thump, and landing in a heap with a gasp. For a second he's scared. Scared that Ardyn has come to take him somewhere to make him into one of those. Into an MT. But then he hears it.

"Hey, you alright?" Gladio's voice hits his ears first.

Iggy's is next. "Are you hurt? Do you need help?" The tone brings to mind Ardyn's taunts, that even Iggy, after all he's been through, wants to help Prompto, and makes him feel weak all over again.

"I'm fine," he replies. Though he's very much not fine. He aches all over, but he can't bring himself to care. "Thank you, Noct."

He knows that Gladio and Iggy likely had no small part in his rescue, but he can't be bothered to care right now. He'll thank them later. Right now, Noct is right beside him and is all he really wants to see. Selfish, maybe. But he can't help it.

"No sweat," Noctis says, trying to be as casual and calm as ever. But he doesn't quite make it.

The voice sounds familiar in its sound, but different in its tone. The tone, though, makes his knees buckle in surprise as he tries to pick himself up. It's the kind of tone he's always wished to hear coming from Noctis. The concern, while there and very obvious, isn't what he's talking about. There's a softness to Noctis' tone. Not the usual softness, either. Noctis has never had a terribly loud voice. Prompto has always been the loudmouth of the pair, after all. Always trying to urge his best friend into horseplay or fun and easy conversation. But this softness is a heavy softness. Like Prompto is all that matters in the world.

That, Prompto decides, was worth staying alive for on its own.

"Tell me..." Prompto starts, after a few seconds, his words trailing into nothing as Ardyn's words ring in his mind like an alarm bell. _Was that just the crown prince's way of getting rid of his useless, dead weight of a friend?_ He blinks and pushes himself back up onto all fours, then to a seated position. "Were you worried about me?"

Noctis looks at him in surprise, then concern. "Of course I was..." he answers. Then, the surprise turns to incredulity. "What kind of question is that?" he asks while kneeling next to Prompto. He looks like he wants to reach to help Prompto up, but he's hesitating. Always hesitating. It's not the first time Prompto has caught him reaching out like that. But he never makes the final move, never closes the distance completely. Prompto longs to know what it would feel like if he did.

"Of course," Prompto speaks up again, ignoring his question. "That's why you came. Like I believed you would..." he continues, putting his hand beneath him and weakly pushing himself to his feet.

"Prompto..." Noctis speaks, his voice shaky with some kind of emotion that Prompto can't identify right now.

But Prompto continues, unsure what has emboldened him. Maybe it's just relief that he's with the others again. Maybe it's delirium from pain. Whatever it is, though, he can't stop himself from saying, "that's why... I kept telling myself that I can't die. Not until I could see you. And hear you tell me that I'm not a fake." His own voice shakes a little with the words. "That I'm the real me."

Noctis' eyes turn down to the floor. "I'm sorry..." he replies, shame wrapping his voice and making him sound a bit strangled.

But Prompto knows, deep down in his heart of hearts, that Ardyn _can't_ be right. That Noctis would _never_ try to get rid of him. That Noctis _doesn't_ see him as dead weight. That's not the kind of person Noctis is. That's not the kind of person that he fell for. "Don't be," he says, hanging his head a little, hiding his eyes for a second before turning to look up at Noctis again. "Everything's alright now."

Maybe it's his relief, but in that moment, Prompto swears that he sees Noctis looking at him the very way that Prompto had always wanted him to. It makes him want to say all the things that he's been holding inside. But right now, they have a job to do. Right now, they have to get the crystal. So, instead, he breathes in, looks at his friends—his _family_ —and says, "let's go."


	2. Cling to the Rock

For once it isn't Specs that suggests a break. It's Noctis. Prompto insists that he doesn't need a break, but Noctis isn't stupid. Even at his best, Prompto is adorably clumsy, sure. But now, his movements are dizzy and sluggish. He's hunched just slightly more than usual. And whether Prompto realizes it or not… he needs to rest.

No matter how many times Prompto tells him not to worry, Noctis can't help it. Not only for obvious reasons, but because Prompto even had to _ask_ if he was worried to begin with. Noctis doesn't think that it's the type of thing that needs asking, but he also doesn't know what Prompto has been through for the past few days. It's obvious—he can't help but notice that fact written in the cuts and bruises all over Prompto's body—that it hasn't been good. Not for the first time, not for the _thousandth_ time, Noctis swears vengeance on Ardyn for everything that he's done.

Prompto maintains his protests through the door to the dormitory, and as Noctis pulls him toward one of the bunk beds and escorts him to the bottom bunk. He continues as Noctis gingerly sits down on the edge of the bed.

"I'm fine, Noct. Really. I don't need to rest. I…"

Noctis shushes him with a look. The 'quiet Prompto' look that, admittedly, he's used more times than he can think to count. Most of the time, it's used in a loving and affectionate way; when his friend won't stop talking when Noctis is trying to sleep, or when he speaks a little too loud and almost blows their cover when they're trying to act in stealth; another far-too-common occurrence. But this time, there's no bite behind it. He just doesn't want Prompto to protest.

Prompto goes quiet, and looks away from Noctis, a new emotion on his face that Noctis doesn't remember seeing before. It crosses embarrassment and sadness, shame and fear, and while Noctis watches the expression, each emotion pronounces itself more and more.

Just as he's about to ask, though, Gladio shows up with the first aid kit and pulls him from his thoughts. "You wanna do it, or should I?" he asks Noctis, holding the kit out in the air.

Noctis accepts it. "I can." The only training he really has in first aid is what Gladio and Specs have given him, but he'll figure it out. He knows enough to make it work, and he feels like he owes it to Prompto after everything that happened on the train.

Likely knowing this, Gladio just nods and walks back across the room to sit beside Specs. They're talking quietly, likely assessing the situation and worrying over Noctis and Prompto in their way.

Noctis sets the first aid kit down next to him on the table and pulls out a cotton ball and some antiseptic. When he turns to look back at Prompto, he notices that Prompto isn't looking at him. He isn't looking at anyone. He's staring up at the bars that cross under the top bunk's mattress. Holding the dripping cotton ball in his hand, he notices Prompto's eyes. It's not the first time he's noticed them. They've never had any business being as bright as they are, as beautiful as they are. Even when they aren't happy, they're still bright and beautiful.

One of Noctis' favorite things about Prompto, one of the things he's always loved, is how Prompto wears his heart on his sleeve. How everything he feels is displayed on his face like a neon sign. Noctis has never been good at that himself. He conceals thoughts and feelings, to the point that he's reasonably sure that people see him as an unfeeling, spoiled prince.

King. Whatever.

Not Prompto, though. For the most part, Prompto's feelings are right out there. Right there for everyone to see. It's one of the things that drew Noctis to him initially. There was no hiding, no secrecy, no hidden agenda. The honesty and eagerness that most people surrounding him lacked. Even when it's something that he probably wants to hide, like right now, Noctis can see it as clear as the sun in the sky.

The drip of the antiseptic on his palm pulls him out of his stupor, and he displays the cotton ball to Prompto as a warning. Prompto turns to look at him finally, and nods his head in acknowledgment. He touches the cotton to the cut on Prompto's temple gently, and when Prompto hisses into the silence, he hums a soft apology.

"I'm fine," Prompto insists, for the hundred thousandth time.

Noctis shakes his head no this time, though. "You're not fine, Prom," he points out.

Prompto looks at him in surprise, and for a second it seems like he's going to protest. But he doesn't. He just goes quiet and turns his eyes away from Noctis again. Not answering, not wearing his heart on display, is very not Prompto and drives the point home even further that he's not as fine as he wants Noctis to think he is.

Maybe it's a dick move, but Noctis uses the antiseptic to get Prompto's attention again. He wets the cotton ball again and touches it to Prompto's temple once more, to ensure that it's properly cleaned, and Prompto hisses again and turns his head to look Noctis' way once more.

This time, Noctis keeps him in place with a gentle finger to his jaw. "You're not fine, Prom," he repeats.

Prompto appears frozen, which is hilarious because he could very easily shake off Noctis' touch. But he makes no move to do so. He just stares up at Noctis with wide eyes—eyes which still have no right to be as beautiful as they are—and presses his lips together.

"I'm not fine," he answers quietly. "But I have to be."

The second part is added in a tone so quiet that if Noctis had been paying attention to anything other than Prompto, he might not have heard it. But since Prompto is all that matters right now, he hears it loud and clear.

"Why?" Noctis asks, finally moving his finger away now that he has Prompto's attention, and gathering another cotton ball from the bag, discarding the first one to the floor unceremoniously. It's an imperial lab. What does he care?

Prompto doesn't look like he's going to answer at first, but Noctis meets his eyes and silently implores him to. When he finally does, it's the last answer that Noctis ever expected.

"I'm tired of being the weak link…" he says, his voice shaky.

The weak link. Noctis is surprised to hear that, but he knows that he shouldn't be. With Gladio and Specs around, sometimes even he feels a bit like a weak link. Even—maybe especially—now that Ignis has so much that he has to overcome. To do so and remain strong, remain determined to stay at Noctis' side, shows a strength and conviction that Noctis wishes he had. But this isn't about Noctis' own demons right now.

He shakes his head, planning to say something comforting. But instead, what comes out is far different. "That's stupid," he tells Prompto.

"What?" Prompto blinks a couple of times.

Noctis is kicking himself for a moment, because while it _is_ stupid for Prompto to feel like he's the weak link, that isn't even remotely what he wanted to say. But rather than show his embarrassment, he continues. "Thinking that you're the weak link. That's stupid. You all bring your own thing to the table. Specs is smart. Gladio's a beast. You're enthusiastic. This trip would've been so miserable without you." For a hundred reasons. Not the least of which was his enthusiasm.

 _Coward,_ Noctis' brain taunted. _Almost lose him, get him back, and you still can't tell him how much he means to you._

Truthfully, it was more than that. Truthfully, being thrust onto a trip, forced into marriage with a woman who had always been more of a sister than a lover to him, would have been _intolerable_ without Prompto at his side, always looking at things with his Prompto light; cracking jokes and making him smile and... just being there. And then after losing Luna, watching her die for him, it was worse. But with Prompto there, nothing ever seems quite as bad.

But for the same reason, it has been absolute torture.

Truthfully, Noctis has ached for him for what feels like a lifetime, but is actually five short years.

Specs knows. Specs has known for a long time. He was the first one to know, honestly. He's reasonably sure that Gladio knows, too. But to them it doesn't matter. And why should it? Those two have been the same to each other for awhile now, too. He suspects that Prompto doesn't know about that, but Gladio and Specs keep it pretty close to the vest.

"We need you, Prom," Noctis says, as he touches the antiseptic cotton ball to the bridge of Prompto's nose. "I... need you."

There is obvious uncertainty in the second part of the statement, in the way his voice hitches after he starts. But he's said it now, and he can't take it back. He wouldn't if he could, honestly. For once he's said what's in his mind, in his heart, and as surprised as he is, he doesn't regret it or even try to take it back.

Prompto's eyes are wide as ever, and he doesn't even react to the antiseptic being touched to the open wound on his nose. "You do?" he asks.

Noctis feels put on the spot, but rather than answer with words and risk saying the wrong thing, he just nods. Because it's true. He does need Prompto. He needs _all_ of them, of course, but Gladio and Specs know how much he needs them. Prompto, it seems, doesn't. But how could he? Noctis, much like Gladio and Specs, keeps it close to the vest.

A faint smile ghosts Prompto's lips. "You need me." Just as quickly as the smile appears, though, it fades into a sad and worried expression. "You need me..." he repeats. Prompto moves his hands now, covering the open spot on his left glove.

"Yeah," Noctis says. "So, wherever you got the idea that you're the weak link... it's stupid."

The smile comes back, but it's not as bright as it was before. "I won't let you down, Noct," he says.

 _You could never,_ Noctis thinks, but just nods, smiles the smallest smile, and touches the cotton ball to Prompto's face again.


	3. Not A Lost Cause

Maybe it should have occurred to Noctis before, to ask about where Prompto was from before he came to Insomnia. But as he stands there, watching Prompto lower his hand from the unlocking mechanism, he realizes that even if he had, Prompto probably wouldn't have answered. And with good reason.

Now, though, it seems like he has very little choice. Gladio is looking at him in surprise, and Ignis, though unable to see, seems fully aware that something has happened that's worthy of his attention. Unseeing eyes look in Prompto's direction as well. Noctis wonders if he feels like a spotlight is on him. Prompto has never really been afraid of being the center of attention—Noctis figures that it's because he's never really been _forced_ to be there before—but right now, as he _is_ being forced, he looks like he wants to shrink down into nothing.

Noctis can't help but look at him, too. There's no judgment in his eyes—at least he hopes there isn't—simply curiosity. But in Prompto's shoes, Noctis can imagine that it probably feels like judgment.

Still, he faces it dead on. 

With a sigh, Prompto casts his eyes away from everyone, out into the cold metal surroundings of the elevator hangar. "So, MTs... they've got those code prints. Just like I do..." he speaks in a voice that it a shadow of Prompto's normal voice. It's almost like all the light—all the joy—has been drained out of him. It's been like that since they found him, really. Not that Noctis expects much else, but it's still utterly devastating to hear.

"Do they? Never looked," he responds.

Maybe he should stop Prompto from speaking; insist that he doesn't have to say anything more, but this seems like something that he needs to get off his chest. If this conversation is leading where Noctis is relatively sure it's going, it's something that he's been dealing with alone for his whole life. It's about time for that to stop, he decides.

Prompto still refuses to meet anyone's eye. His gaze is nervous, has he darts from Noctis to Gladio, Gladio to Ignis, back to Noctis, then back out into the open space. "Yeah, so, as it turns out, I'm one of them," he explains. "Not exactly something I could tell people growing up in Lucis." He blinks his eyes several times, like he's staving off tears, and Noctis has to physically fight the urge to hurry up to him, scoop him up, and tell him that everything is going to be okay.

Why does he have to fight it? He isn't sure. But he's sure that he does.

"Still," Prompto continues, "you guys are like the only friends I've ever known. I just hope things can stay the way they were."

Noctis tilts his body just so, trying to weasel his way into Prompto's periphery, refusing with all he has to allow his dearest friend, his favorite person, to close himself off. "Whatever," he insists. "Who cares where you were born?" As soon as the words escape, Noctis internally curses himself, and the way he can never seem to say what he wants to say when he wants to say it.

It's like he doesn't know how to be eloquent. Sometimes, he wishes he had Ignis' talent for comfort, his willingness to cast aside appearances and toughness to be flowery and affectionate. But he doesn't. And right now, when it matters the most, it makes Noctis angry to no end. It should have been easy. _I don't care where you're from. You're still Prompto, and I still..._

Even his mind cuts the words off before he can think them.

Fortunately, Ignis' voice cuts off the internal beating he's giving himself. "I don't see you turning against us. Not now, not ever." His voice, as ever, is intended to soothe. Countless times in his life have Ignis' words comforted Noctis, reassured him when he was doubtful. He can't imagine it not working on Prompto. Noctis finds himself grateful for it now more than ever.

It seems as though they have, too. Prompto finally meets their eyes, his own impossibly beautiful violet-blue eyes lined with unshed tears. "Thanks guys," he chokes out. "Still, I can't change where I come from. Who I am." Once again, he's back to not looking at them.

Noctis shrugs, stepping forward, inviting himself into Prompto's space. "Since when does where you come from matter to you?" he asks, watching as Prompto's eyes raise to meet his from behind a blond curtain of hair. He looks beautifully vulnerable right now, and Noctis feels his heart flit the tiniest bit in his chest. "You never once treated me like a prince."

In a motion that isn't even remotely what he _wants_ to do, he reaches a hand forward and taps Prompto on the shoulder. It would have been easy to do more. And even as he pulls his hand back to his side, his heart is screaming at him, telling him that he's being a fool. _Touch him. Hold him close. Don't let him go,_ screams his heart. But his mind insists that it's not wise.

"Never so much as a highness." Ignis muses, then Noctis turns to look at him, and the moment is gone.

But maybe it's for the best.

Noctis turns back to Prompto and says, "we're done here. Come on, crown citizen."

From over his shoulder, he catches sight of Gladio clapping Prompto on the shoulder. "You're one of us, right?" the big guy's voice, calmer than usual but still clear as a bell, echoes.

*

Noctis makes short work of the device sealing the group's weapons, and together, they make short work of the enemies that follow. In a bit of grim amusement, Noctis can't help but wonder if maybe Ardyn was right about him. Maybe he _is_ hopeless without the others at his side. But that's okay. Because they _are_ at his side. And even when they're not, knowing that they rely on him makes him all the more determined to find them again. That had just happened with Prompto, and if it comes to it, he'll do it a hundred thousand times.

At Specs' suggestion this time, they find themselves back in the dormitory. Specs insists that it's because they're all tired, and because the last time they were in a dormitory, it was more about tending to Prompto's wounds than actually resting.

Noctis can't complain. He won't complain. He's tired as hell and he needs the break. But, in spite of the exhaustion wracking his whole body to the core, he can't sleep. It's unusual, because he can generally sleep anywhere. But this time, he can't seem to relax. Gladio and Specs can't either, it seems. They're sitting on the other side of the room again, talking quietly to one another.

The rest, he figures, is more for their bodies than their minds. Because he can't imagine that anyone's mind feels quite like resting at the moment.

He pushes himself to a sitting position, crosses his legs and leans his head against the wall. The bright lights on the ceiling hurt his eyes a little bit, but he doesn't look away right away. In fact, he only looks away when a familiar voice from the lower bunk pulls him from his stupor.

"Noct? You awake?" Prompto asks quietly.

Noctis looks down from the ceiling, the lights leaving a bright blue streak across his eyes, and as he blinks it away, he turns his head downward toward Prompto. "Yeah."

Specs and Gladio look over for a second, but they don't move. Instead, they calmly turn back to their own conversation.

On the bunk below him, Noctis feels movement. He looks down, and only sees the peek of Prompto's boots coming from the bunk below him, landing on the floor as his friend stands up. Noctis opens his mouth to protest as Prompto's face comes into view, but Prompto waves it off. He crosses his arms, leaning forward onto the bed in front of Noctis, looking up at him.

"I'm surprised you can't sleep. You can usually sleep through anything." His tone is casual, but his eyes aren't.

Noctis shrugs one shoulder and looks at the white sheets beneath him. "Too much as happened today. I don't think I could make my mind relax if I tried." He chuckles a bitter note, and watches as Prompto nods.

Silence envelops the room then. Even Gladio and Specs stop talking at that moment, so literally all Noctis hears is the buzzing of the lights over their heads. He can feel Prompto's eyes on him, though, and it causes him to turn and look down at the blond. Prompto, who is resting his chin on his crossed arms, looks at Noctis with a question hiding right behind his tired eyes. Part of Noctis wonders if he hasn't shown over time that Prompto can ask him whatever he wants. The rest of him, though, understands that there are some things that are difficult to ask. Maybe all Prompto needs is a little encouragement.

"What?" Noctis asks, ever frustrated at his inability to articulate his feelings.

Prompto blinks a couple of times, then raises a hand to run through his hair, pushing the one bit that always hangs in front of his eyes, back. "I was just wondering..." he starts, then trails off, shaking his head no.

Noctis tilts his head, imploring Prompto to continue. But when Prompto looks away again, Noctis hums a humorless note of laughter. "Do you think you can make it up here?" he asks, motioning to the empty space of the bed in front of him.

Turning sharply to look back at Noctis, Prompto turns his attention down to the bed, then back to Noctis, and nods eagerly. He moves around to the ladder and slowly, gingerly, climbs up onto the top bunk. He leans against the wall to Noctis' left, and folds his hands in his lap. Still quiet. Still not speaking his mind.

"So," Noctis starts, deciding to push against the boundaries a little bit. "What were you wondering?"

Prompto pulls his lower lip into his mouth and rakes his teeth over it, then huffs laughter. "Guess it was too much to hope that you'd forgotten," he muses.

With a one-shouldered shrug, Noctis nods. "So, what was it?" he asks. 

And with that question out in the open, Prompto turns his head to look up at the ceiling and shrugs one shoulder. "Did it ever cross your mind?" he started. "Leaving me, I mean, and just going for the crystal? I know you don't think I'm a weak link, but I... I know you have a duty, too. To the world. To get the crystal back and fix things. So it would have been easier if you just-"

In the time it's taken Prompto to dump his questions and thoughts out onto the mattress in front of him, Noctis has moved from the head of the bed to the side, leaning against the wall next to Prompto. He settles into position just in time to gently nudge Prompto with his shoulder, interrupting him in the middle of his mental dump.

"Never," he says. "Not once."

Prompto is looking at him now, eyes wide. It would be easy. It would be _so_ easy to just close the distance between them and answer all the hundred thousand questions that have ping-ponged around in his mind for years. But fear holds him back. Fear of what Prompto would do. Prompto has never really given any indication of interest like that before—although the way he's staring, wide-eyed and unmoving, at Noctis right now makes him wonder exactly how unwelcome it would be—but Noctis can't help but be afraid.

But it doesn't matter, because in a fraction of a second and with a speed that he shouldn't have, given his injuries, Prompto grabs Noctis by the collar of his shirt and leans in, pressing their lips together.

And it's almost like time stops.


	4. Back to My Element

Prompto is kissing Noctis.

Really, truly and honestly, kissing Noctis. And it feels incredible. Far and away from anything Prompto could have expected. It's _electrifying_ and he feels it all the way from the tips of his hair to the tips of his toes. Noctis' lips are soft and warm, and in the bends of his fingers, he can feel a hard hammering in Noctis' chest. Why is _his_ heart racing, though? It's not like _he's_ the one who's wanted to do this for years upon years.

If he's completely honest with himself, Prompto isn't sure what finally spurred him to do it. He wishes that he could blame it on delirium, on the fog that had settled over his brain because of his injury. Maybe it'll be easier to explain to Noctis if he tries to pass it off that way. Just a side effect of the pain, making him seek out some kind of comfort that...

No. No, that doesn't make sense.

But does it have to make sense? Because if Prompto isn't imagining things, he swears that he actually feels Noctis kissing him back. He doesn't dare open his eyes, doesn't dare look at Noctis to see whatever expression is on his face. Except, he finally does. When they break to breathe, he meets Noctis' eyes, to be met with surprise in return. And of course he's surprised! Out of nowhere, and with no explanation, his best friend kisses him? His best friend who also happens to be a _guy_?

"I'm so sorry!" 

His apology sounds like a barked order more than an actual apology, but now, he stares at Noctis in wide-eyed panic, his hand still clasped around the collar to Noctis' shirt. Maybe he should let go, but a tiny voice in the corner of his mind won't let him, because it felt—for a second, maybe, a little bit—like Noctis had kissed him back. So, rather than do the smart thing and let go, he continues talking. Rambling. Apologizing.

"I mean, I don't know why I did that." A lie and a truth at the same time. "I guess I was just wondering what it would feel like. Not that I've _thought_ about it before or anything, or that I thought that you'd-"

Noctis stops him, not with words this time but by reaching over to gently turn Prompto's face back his way. This time it's Noctis that initiates a second kiss. It's like he steals the words from Prompto's lips with his mouth, and while it raises a dozen more questions, it also puts to rest at least _one_ of the worries that are whirling around in Prompto's mind.

This time, their lips linger, and everything in the room fades into nothing. In the back corner of his mind, he's fully aware that Gladio and Iggy are in the room—whether or not they're paying attention is another matter entirely—but even that doesn't faze him. Not right now, anyway. Maybe later, he'll have time to reflect and laugh about (or question) the fact that this happened in front of two people that Prompto looks up to. But right now, he doesn't care. Not in the slightest.

A gentle chuckle and some hushed words—Gladio's voice—catch his ear, followed by another soft laugh from Ignis this time. He wonders why they sound so calm, but his train of thought is derailed by a sudden lack of Noctis' lips against his.

Suddenly, the air around him is cold, but maybe that's because _his_ temperature has gone up a few degrees. There's heat in his cheeks, and he's about 900% sure he's blushing like an absolute idiot, but Noctis doesn't seem to be bothered. In fact, he's smiling. And it's one of those lopsided, shy smiles that Prompto loves more than anything in the world. He finds himself reciprocating against his will. For most of his life, all he's wanted was to see that smile; to be the _cause_ of that smile. And, maybe it was a little bit bold of him to assume, but he is pretty confident that he's accomplished it.

"Don't be sorry," Noctis says.

Prompto, still smirking like an absolute fool, pulls one side of his lower lip into his mouth and finds himself pondering his next words carefully. For as long as he's wanted to do this, as many times as he's imagined what it would feel like to happen, his mind always cuts out before he figures out what happens next. And he finds himself at a complete loss. For someone as conversational as Prompto, though, this part should be easy. But it isn't. Not by a long shot.

He finally releases his hold on Noctis' shirt, then dares—double dares... _triple_ dares—himself to reach that same hand down and place it on top of Noctis'. Noctis' hand is warm, Prompto can't help but notice. A part of him wonders if that's because of the king's magic, but he doesn't bother to ask. When he looks up, he sees Noctis still staring down at their hands, and moves to bring his hand back, nervous that he's overstepped this newly discovered boundary.

Noctis, though, turns his hand over and recaptures Prompto's hand before it can get away. He laces their fingers together, and meets Prompto's eyes. "Don't apologize for that, either," he insists.

Prompto is completely stunned. Is it possible that, maybe, it could have been this simple all along? Just reach out and grab his hand? Just kiss him? "Do you..." he pauses, stumbling over his words rather than his feet like he usually does, and continues before Noctis has to urge him on like he has every other time today. "Have you wanted to do that before now?"

The question lingers in the air, hanging like an empty tire swing, and for a second, Prompto wonders if Noctis just isn't going to answer. It's not like he _has_ to answer, after all. If he's wanted to do it, that's his secret to keep. But at the same time, if it's just something that Prompto sprung on him, unwanted, he definitely _does_ have to apologize. So, he needs to know the answer.

Noctis does answer, though. "Yeah," he says quietly. "For awhile."

The answer, as vague as it is, is enough for Prompto. He chuckles awkwardly, then relaxes against the wall again. "Me too," he explains sheepishly, turning his head to the side to glance at Noctis.

"Why didn't you?" 

Prompto blinks a couple of times. "Why didn't _you_?" he asks in return, equal parts incredulous and amused by the question.

With a chuckle, Noctis nods his head once. "A few reasons, I guess," he answers. Just the fact that he answers at all surprises Prompto, but then he continues. "I wasn't sure if you liked me like that. I mean, the way you're always fawning over Cindy and Iris and whatever other girl crosses your path, I thought you were-"

Prompto shakes his head, lowering his voice to a whisper so that Gladio and Ignis can't hear. Or maybe they can. It doesn't matter. They've already seen Prompto kiss Noctis, and haven't reacted. Whatever that means. "I'm not. I mean, not completely," he explains. "It was just... easier to play it up. I mean, Luna, you know? How was I supposed to compete?" He turns to glance at Noctis.

But Noctis is smiling, chuckling softly, and shakes his head no. "It wasn't a competition," he explains, shrugging one shoulder. "I love..." he pauses, "loved... Luna, but in the same way I love Specs and the Big Guy over there. She's family. The big sister I never had. But you. You're..."

He trails off, biting his lip nervously.

"I'm what?" Prompto asks. He hasn't let Prompto get away with trailing off and leaving things unsaid, so Prompto decides that he's not going to get away with it this time, either.

Noctis chuckles shyly, and it's his turn to lean back against the wall and take a glance up at the ceiling. "You're different," he says, his voice hushed. "You're... you're you."

It isn't a special distinction, but Prompto doesn't need one. He understands, because he feels much the same. Cindy and Iris and Luna are all pretty, all lovely and kind people, but they're not Noctis. They're not the one person in the world who looks past Prompto's goofy, clumsy exterior and understands him for who he is. They don't make his heart threaten to pound out of his chest with one look.

Prompto nods. "I get it," he explains. He doesn't say that he feels the same, but he has a feeling he doesn't have to.

Lazily, Noctis lolls his head to the side and looks at Prompto, smiling a sleepy smile. "You always do." He doesn't explain. He doesn't have to.

"So," Prompto starts, closing the last bit of distance between them, "what does this mean? What do we do from here?"

Noctis is quiet for a moment, and then he shrugs. "We finish what we came here to do. Get the crystal, save Eos. And then..." He chuckles a single note, wetting his lips and says, "we figure it out from there."

His eyes are on Noctis' resting form, and he allows himself a half-smile. He's not going to say that he's not afraid of what's to come. Ardyn's still out there. They don't know what they'll have to face in order to get the crystal back. But knowing that, on the other side, he and Noctis will have a chance to figure out what all of this means... well, that's good enough for him.

He closes his eyes and finds himself easily drifting off into sleep, with his hand gently gripping Noctis'.


	5. Slippery Slope

Prompto is about halfway down the hall when he hears Noctis' scream. Panic shoots through his veins like someone had just replaced them with gasoline and set them ablaze. He surges past Gladio, rushing past the giant sword of the Iron Giant that the big guy is engaging. A couple of daemons stand between him and the door, too. How Noctis got past them, Prompto doesn't know. But he did, and now he's trapped on the other side of a giant door, suffering somehow.

And because of two giant daemons in the way, Prompto is stuck trying to fight his way in. If he could get to the lock mechanism, he could just open the door and they'd be there.

But instead, he's stuck conjuring up his pistol and fighting the enemies in front of him. The wraith in front of him closes in, tries to grab him, but he dives out of the way, firing up and hitting it in the arm. That sends it reeling, giving him the chance to switch to his circular saw and take it out. If they were in Lucis, the four of them together, a maneuver like that probably would have earned him some kind of praise. But the three of them are determined to get past that door, so from there, Prompto simply notices an ice grenade flying through the air. Once Ignis' grenade impacts, Gladio helps Prompto up from the floor, swings his sword at the second wraith, and earns the three of them enough time to squeeze through.

Prompto ensures that Ignis makes it through safely, then hurries up to the locking mechanism, raising his hand to it again. For a split second, he finds himself marveling at how useful the very thing he's cursed for ages has turned out to be. Once he's sure Ignis and Gladio are through the door, he closes it behind them and turns around.

All positive thought drains from his head, however, when they get to the other side of the door. In front of him, Noctis' cries of agony disappear into silence. Into silence, and into the _crystal_. Ardyn stands between them and the crystal, and what's worse, Noctis isn't even there.

Eyes wide in panic, Prompto shakes his head no. "Noct!" he shouts, surging forward to get to the crystal.

He turns to Ardyn, anger flaming in his eyes. "What did you do to him?!" Prompto screams, his voice echoing out in the large, mostly-empty room.

"Me? I didn't do a thing." Ardyn's faux-innocence is almost offensive, but Prompto is still frozen. He gestures toward the crystal. "He's merely taking a little repose." The whole situation makes his head spin. What's just happened? The whole reason they're here is to get to the crystal, isn't it? Touch it and purge the daemons? Bring back daylight? So, how and why is Noctis _in_ the crystal?

Prompto wishes that he was smarter, so that maybe he could figure out what's happening here, but all that he has are questions.

Gladio is equally enraged, maybe more it seems, and he steps forward. "What the hell just happened here?" he seethes.

"Did you tamper with the crystal somehow?" Ignis asks. And it worries Prompto that Ignis, who normally has answers for everything, can't seem to figure out what's happened. He's missing one of his senses, of course; he can't exactly see what's going on in the room, so he doesn't know exactly what's happened. But that doesn't stop him from trying to piece the situation together.

Ardyn simply chuckles tauntingly, then sighs dramatically. "Tsk tsk, Ignis. Shame you don't have all the answers, isn't it? Shame you can't see what's happening right in front of your face. Maybe you could have saved your dear prince." He hums a soft laugh and turns around. "Now if you'll excuse me," he taunts, tipping his hat facetiously, showing them a smug grin, "I have a date with the throne."

That, however, makes Gladio surge forth with a growl and strike. His sword cuts through Ardyn's shoulder, but only seems to halt him for a second. Prompto takes the cue, though, anger... _desperation_... lighting a fire in his chest. He conjures his pistol and fires a shot into Ardyn's back, which sends him down to the ground. For a moment, a sense of vindication shoots through Prompto's whole body as Ardyn's hat falls off his head and rolls along the ground. But it's immediately replaced with sadness. With uncertainty.

And that uncertainty only grows when Ardyn somehow manages to pick himself back up. Prompto can only stare blankly as he turns. Blankness quickly turns to horror, though, when Ardyn turns to reveal... Prompto isn't even sure _what_. His face looks like it's rotting. Like he's a zombie in a video game or something.

"If it comforts you at _all_ ," he chides, "your charge is still very much alive. He's just... resting. Like I said. It's no fault of mine, boys. You've quite literally shot the messenger."

Without another word—which is just as well, because it seems that all three of them are far too dumbstruck to speak at this point—Ardyn walks toward the exit. Prompto just barely notices the fact that none of the few daemons left on the other side attack him. Does that mean that he's part daemon? Is that why his face is so messed up? Once again, all Prompto has are questions, and all he really wants are answers.

Right now... the only thing that's certain is that Noctis is in the crystal. Somewhere.

*

While Gladio explains everything that Ignis can't see, Prompto sits butterfly-style on the floor in front of the crystal. He's examined it a dozen times. He's even tried to look into it, but all he saw when he did was solid crystal. He leans forward just slightly, touching his hand to the crystal once again. Maybe somewhere in the corners of his mind, he's hoping that it'll pull him in, just so that he can be with Noctis again, but it doesn't happen.

The crystal is warm, though. The same warmth that Noctis' hand had when he held it in his just hours ago. It makes Prompto not want to move from where he sits. It doesn't emanate the same warmth as Noctis does, but he can still feel it on his fingertips and it brings to him the realization that Ardyn was telling the truth. Noctis is in there. Prompto can't see him, but he can feel him.

A lump chokes Prompto's throat, and he stares up at the crystal. It's the same color as Noctis' eyes.

Breathing a slow and steadying breath, he lets his hand fall back to his side, then raises it again to place on his head. "We should have never let him come in here alone," he mumbles quietly to himself. "If we'd... if he hadn't, then maybe..." He trails off, unsure of what was to follow there.

"We still would have been under the impression that he had to touch the crystal." Ignis' voice sounds closer than it did moments ago. "He would have..." His voice hitches, barely concealed emotion threatening to boil over.

Gladio covers for him, though. "It still would have happened."

Except they would have had to see it. While uncertainty is torture—while Prompto wishes that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his feeling was true—that the warmth really _did_ feel like Noctis' touch... maybe it was better that he hadn't seen. As much as this hurt, it would have hurt all the more having to watch Noctis being pulled in and being able to do nothing about it. Even with the questions, though, he can't stop himself from reaching out to touch the crystal again. Just to feel that same warmth.

"It's not fair," Prompto whispers. So long, he's wondered what it would feel like to be with Noctis. He's wanted to kiss him, to hold his hand, to sleep beside him like he did a few short hours ago. "If I'd known that... that this was going to happen..."

Ignis' hand touches his shoulder. "Don't finish that sentence," he insists. "Noctis had-" he cuts himself off, breathes, then continues- " _has_ wanted that for years. Don't allow yourself to think that what happened here has anything to do with what happened between the two of you. It makes no sense to, anyhow." Even through his sunglasses, and even with his eyes closed, Prompto can still see the emotion on his face.

"You start blaming yourself, and it's gonna make whatever comes next all the harder," Gladio adds, stepping up beside Ignis and turning his head to look at the crystal.

Prompto's hand drops back down, and he turns to look up at Gladio. "What _does_ come next?" he asks despondently, hoping with all of his heart for some kind of certainty in all this mess. His voice doesn't hold the same optimism as it did the last time he spoke those words, and that fact isn't lost on him.

Gladio's responding frown isn't the same disdainful frown he's worn since Ardyn left the room. It's sadder now. He doesn't have to answer the question. Prompto already knows that he doesn't have an answer.

Ignis, though, speaks up. "We keep fighting," he says. "We don't give up. Because if Ardyn is to be believed, Noctis will be back. And if he does come back, he'll never forgive us if we just stagnate. The people back in Lucis will need help, if what we've learned is true. So..." Emotion layers over his voice, but he does his best to rally both Prompto and Gladio.

"We just keep on?!" Prompto asks in desperate incredulity. "H-how?!"

With a hand on his shoulder, Gladio shakes Prompto lightly. "Do it for him. The way he did for you. And we start doing that by not just sitting here moping. By going home and trying to figure out a game plan," he explains plainly. 

Prompto is silent for a few seconds, pondering what Gladio and Ignis said, and then he nods. They're absolutely right, of course. Noctis just fought through what had to be a living hell for Prompto. It's the least he can do to do the same for Noctis. He looks up at the crystal again, then blinks slowly to stave off tears. Moving gingerly, the aches of the day catching up to him, Prompto stands up, still keeping his eyes on the crystal.

 _It's just for now,_ he thinks, wishing that somehow he could transmit his thoughts to Noctis inside the crystal. _And if you come back..._ when _you come back, I'm going to hold you to what you said. We can finish this, and figure out what comes next. Together._ He has to believe that their plan means as much to Noctis as it does to him.

He isn't sure how he'll do it, but he'll wait. He'll wait as long as he has to for Noctis to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been a heck of a journey for me, and as much as I really, _really_ wanted to give it a happy ending, I couldn't. Initially, it started as me working through my feelings about (and sharing my take on behind the scenes moments of) what happened in Chapter 13, and I think it ended much the same way.
> 
> I have a vague idea to change and expand on my first FFXV work, [You and Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8838208), turning it into a similar feelings-work-through and character study on what happened in Chapter 14, but I'm not sure if I can take it, emotionally, right now. Maybe after I've written a couple fluffier, happier works in the middle.
> 
> For now, though, I really, _really_ want to thank you guys for the support you've given me here! I was really nervous about breaking into a new fandom, but the response has been so overwhelmingly positive that I'm endlessly glad that I did it. Nothing I've written has ever gotten as much positive feedback as this has, and it means the world to me.
> 
> Thank you all. I'll be back in the future with something a little happier, hopefully.

**Author's Note:**

> The [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYzEs3NM3rY) that accompanies the story. ♥.


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